Why November 1 Is the Best Day of the Year

On Halloween, we stuff our bodies into latex costumes, our scalps into synthetic wigs. On November 1, we tuck our feet into slippers, our hands into mittens.

On Halloween, we curse our neighbors for their motion-activated decorations and candy bowls. On November 1, we carol and ask for figgy pudding.

On Halloween, we peel a loose gumdrop off a kit kat and eat the gumdrop. On November 1, we peel a loose gumdrop off a gingerbread house and eat the gumdrop.

Where Halloween is dark, twisted, and nightmare-inducing, November 1 is the most wonderful day of the year as it is the precipice of the holidays.

Certainly, the day after Halloween is disorienting. Since July 5, every variety shop, cafe, and overzealous neighbor has been setting up Halloween decorations, trading red, white, and blue for orange and black. But then October 31 comes and goes, and suddenly there’s no more group costume drama, no more party invitations. The leftover candy is dumped in the break room or donated to the military. And all that’s left is a $20 Shrek costume and 30 decorative gourds —which have survived since last year and will survive to the next. In many ways, the day after Halloween feels like a production of Cats after closing and before the set is struck, the costumes, props, and backdrop even weirder without context, Halloweeners and actors alike left asking, “Did I really dress up as a sexy Mr. Mistoffelees last night?” and “Are there really 40 photos of it online?”

Yet despite this Halloween hangover (none of the party but all of the cleanup), I love the day after Halloween. For one, the months-long fright-fest is over, and I’m no fan of gore. Never have been. When I was 7 years old, I wrote my first restaurant review — on a napkin, in crayon — criticizing our local burger joint for their R-rated horror decorations, which I called “too scary,” “unappetizing,” and “not compatible with their family-oriented dining ambiance.” The next year, the decorations were PG pumpkins and bed sheet ghosts. I still take credit.

But the main reason I love November 1 is because it is Christmas. People — and by that I mean me — are ready for the holidays. Admittedly, I’ve only ever seen Halloween as an obstacle to Christmas. My house was never the “good candy” house, the seven-bed four-bath McMansion that every 8-year-old within 5 miles instinctually clocks as the place to get a full-size chocolate bar or even the occasional $10 bill. My parents weren’t the “homemade” type who won me every costume contest by gluing me to an iPad and a cardboard box and calling it a TV. And my family definitely wasn’t the neighbor with the outlandish decorations that nearly warranted a residents’ meeting after an animatronic skeleton almost gave Mrs. Lee a heart attack. Instead, the day after Halloween was our go-ahead to go all out. Our string lights and wreath would go up, our countdown to Christmas calendar pinned to the fridge. We’d try and fail to shove our dog into a snowflake sweater and appease her with an embroidered stocking on the mantle. And we’d all debate when was “too early” to get a tree (answer: October 31).

But it’s not just my household that harks the holiday herald. The air goes from crisp to brisk, the atmosphere ghoul-y to jolly. Pre-orders for turkeys and other festive fowl open or even close. And Google searches for Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas Is You” surge. As evidenced by our attitude, consumption, and listening habits, people understand that November 1 is the start to not just one day of wicked fun, but two whole months of family, friends, and the Hallmark Channel.

Because the holidays aren’t a sprint, but a Thanksgivemas-Kwanzakah-Eve pentathlon, with Halloween the gun that sets off countless merry and bright activities. Who could miss the pumpkin-carving and costume-making when there are  advent calendars and complex gingerbread houses (or trains, or Millennium Falcons, or, usually in my case, blobs) to blunder?

In fact, the holidays aren’t just a pentathlon of merriment, they are also a mindset made possible by the absolution of Halloween. With or without snow, the spirit of a winter wonderland permeates. Caroling suddenly becomes socially acceptable. People become far more selfless and giving — even when wrestling over a discounted American Girl Doll at 6 a.m. on Black Friday in the back corner of a Walmart, it’s always to fulfill a child’s wish. In fact, for all the talk of gifts, the holidays are ultimately about community. Even Mariah Carey won’t “hang [her] stocking there upon the fireplace” because all she wants for Christmas is you.

And if you’re still not convinced of the merits of November 1, social pressure from neighbors, holiday cards from a great aunt’s second cousin, and Mariah’s magical whistle notes will push you right over into the festive season.

So throw a Santa hat on that 12-foot skeleton, put Ebenezer Scrooge pajamas on that witch, and remember to savor the yule and tide to come. The day after Christmas, Kwanzaa, Hanukkah, or even New Year’s Eve, is nowhere near as joyful or anticipatory as November 1. On those later days, the festive decorations come down with nothing to replace them. Winter goes from “Aw, snow” to “Oh no, black ice.” And we’ll all be stuck waiting another 10 months until the next 1st of November.